Glowing - A Caspar Lee Fan Fiction [ON HOLD]

Chapter 10

Sam’s POV:

“Wakey, wakey little girl…”

I groan and shift my head to the left, my neck cramping up on me.

“Time to talk…”

My eyes flutter open, my vision blurry, and I feel a migraine coming on

“Good. You’re awake. Someone get the boss” I hear the voice say again.

“What…” I start to say.

“Shhh…” the person replies. “Save it for the boss man, okay?”

I didn’t have the energy to argue and decided to slump back in the chair. That turned out to be a problem when I discover my hands and feet are strapped tightly to the stiff object, making it difficult to move.

Damn…oh how I hate wooden chairs at the moment…

I struggle for a few seconds only to realize it’s in vain. My vision becomes clear after a couple of blinks and I can make out the features of the dark room. There are about three huge, buff and bald men standing straight-faced around the room.

All in black…

I’m strapped to a very uncomfortable wooden chair, appropriately placed in the middle of the small room, in view of all the men. There’s a naked bulb hanging from the ceiling completing the extremely creepy hostage-room look. I decide then and there that it’s probably the best idea not to talk that much, maybe just to ask dumb questions to make myself look weak.

Go Sam, using all that 20/20 what-do-do-in-an-abduction situation knowledge to the max.

Since when was I on meds? I snap out of my sarcastic frame of mind and think straight for a minute. The last thing I can clearly remember is running outside my apartment, and then someone grabbed me and knocked me out.

FUN.

Any ways, the rest of my memories leading up to this moment are a blur of lights, screeching car tires and some very irritated grunts as someone carried me here, I believe.

I’m not that heavy, am I?

All right, it’s official, I’ve been drugged…

I snap my head up to the sound of a deadbolt being slid out of its lock and a door creaking open. I attempt to crane my neck to see who has entered the room, but, like I said before, I’m strapped to a chair thank you very much. I give up and just listen to the conversation the new man is having with the three men in the room.

“You all can leave, thank you. I can handle this from here on out.” A gruff voice, with an evident accent says.

The three men nod with respect in his direction and file out of the room.

I hear a small sigh of relief as the door closes behind the men and wait for the next words spoken. A loud screech meets my ears as the man pulls a chair up next to me. I decide to play it cool, and continue staring straight ahead, almost as though I hadn’t noticed him enter. We both know that’s not true.

“So you’re the famous Samantha Brooke, now are you?” He asks me quietly, almost as though he didn’t expect me to hear him. My jaw tightens at his words and, again, I ignore him.

“Who are you?” I ask calmly. ON the inside I’m freaking out, thinking this is some sort of messed up human trafficking deal, but on the outside I choose to play it cool and “go with the flow”.

“Ah! What a smart question from such a bright young girl!” He exclaims, grasping my chin with his thumb and forefinger so we are finally facing each other.

He is an old man, I can tell that much. Although he is old, I notice the muscles flexing under his tight shirt, making it clear he is as capable as the other men in here earlier. His skin is tanned as though he has been working outside all day and his hair is dark gray with a few flecks of white. The wrinkles around his eyes remind me of my Grandfather’s when he would smile at me when I made him laugh, but I knew this man would not be smiling at me for the same reasons. His eyes were dark, cold and dead. No life, whatsoever was evident within the orbs that stared into my eyes. I shuddered a little, making him chuckle at my fear.

“I can see the terror in your eyes, Samantha. And yet, you still don’t even know what I am capable of!” he smiles at me and begins to pace.

“I know everything about you, you know.”

My eyes follow him around the room, refusing to let him force me into submission. My sarcastic mind begins to kick in again.

Damn girl! Where was all this when those guys were attacking you? Might’ve come in useful, you know what I mean?

“Do tell me more…” I say, urging him to reveal something I could use against him.

Okay, I’m not that smart, but still, it would be cool if I could figure something out that would actually be useful…

“Let’s discuss, shall we?” He says. I finally recognize the accent.

Duh.

It was Italian.

He begins to list things off, counting them with his fingers.

“You are an athlete, volleyball I believe”

 Point bad guy.

 “You used to have an alcohol problem, but eventually got over it thanks to rehab and ‘the support of your family’, oh how lovely that sounds…”

Another point, bad guy.

 “Your parents died in a plane crash, your only brother left to be with his fiancée in Australia, all of your friends are in Florida for some internet convention, or something like that, and- oh, what’s this” he pauses this time to get closer to my face, his words making the biggest impact on me so far.

“Your South African boyfriend was shot two years ago…am I getting warm yet?” Just let him win already, he’s got all the chips now.

I flinched when the words hit my ears, the feeling of his breath on my face making my skin crawl.

He nods, like he’s trying to graciously accept a speedboat.

“Who are you?” I ask again, my voice wavering this time.

He smiles at me.

“I am unknown. I am invisible. And yet I am your worst nightmare.” I stare at him blankly, waiting for a name.

Enough with the bad guy stuff already…

“I am Vito. Vito Roberto Palazzolo” he answers my question.

He drags the chair over again, this time so we’re facing each other.

I try to control my breathing; he really is getting to me for some reason. Something about his stoic expression while he was rattling off my life story got me shaken up.

“Now, I’ll make this easy on you. Be a doll and tell me where he is…” he says.

CONFUSION.

“Who?” I ask, looking confused.

He looks at me like I’m stupid, making my cheeks turn red as I feel misinformed.

“Caspar Lee, of course.”